


Waldorf

by idharao



Category: Astaire/Rogers RPF, Dancers - Fandom, Musicals - Fandom, Old Hollywood
Genre: F/M, Hotel Sex, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idharao/pseuds/idharao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York City, 1945. Fred and Ginger run into each other in New York unexpectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waldorf

"Ginger."  
  
She looks up from the jewelry display she's been perusing and does a bit of a double take. "Fred," she says in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?"  
  
"Visiting Phyl's parents," he says. "I had no idea you were going to be in New York, we'd have made plans."  
  
"Oh, I sort of ran away for a few days," she says. "I wanted to breathe New York City air for a while."  
  
He can relate. He grins. "What are you looking for?"  
  
"I'm just browsing," she says. "My mother's birthday is coming up."  
  
He holds out his arm to her. "Come," he says. "Walk with me."  
  
She gives him a smile and threads her arm through his. They come out of the store together and head down Fifth Avenue towards Fiftieth Street.  
  
"Where are you staying?" he asks.  
  
"The Waldorf," she says. "I'm just about to go back now."  
  
"I'll walk you," he says. He pulls his hat down a little, offers his arm, and they walk the two blocks east to her hotel. No one gives them a second look and he has to appreciate, once again, the beauty of the anonymity of New York.  
  
At the door of the hotel he turns to her and asks, "Can I come up?"

She regards him for a moment with a sidelong smile that has a lot of love and a little trepidation built into it. Then she nods. "Of course."  
  
They go up in the elevator in silence, but she feels her lips curling into a smile and he glances at her and grins. He turns his eyes up to the lighted indicator above the door, and they disembark into a hallway with only two doors. She goes to the left, unlocks the door, and follows him inside.  
  
She steps out of her shoes. He takes his hat off and drapes his coat over a chair. She moves to stand by the bed to take off her coat and scarf. He closes the distance between them and puts his hands at the small of her back. They stand still for a minute. "Where's Jack?" he asks.  
  
"Stationed in France." She turns her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. "He's been gone for a year now."  
  
"You've been alone for a year?" he asks.  
  
"Mm-hm," she says into his skin. Then, fervently: "I'm so glad you're too old."  
  
He laughs aloud and kisses her hard, opening her mouth under his. "I'm not _too_ old," he says.  
  
"Not for this," she says breathlessly. "But Uncle Sam can't have you." She curls her fingers into his shirt.  
  
He sits her down on the side of the bed and kneels, running his hands up and down her thighs to her hips. She watches his dear, funny face as he pushes her skirt up around her hips. "No one's touched you in a year," he says, and starts to circle his thumb over her underwear. She inhales. It's true, actually. Without Jack around she sleeps alone, because she is faithful.  
  
For the most part.  
  
"Oh, Fred," she says a moment later, snapped out of her thoughts by the feeling of his head between her legs. He's licking her everywhere, as though she's made of sugar and syrup and she tastes good.  
  
Because no one's touched her in a year, because it's Fred touching her, she comes almost right away. Because they're in a hotel room and there is no one else around, she doesn't trouble to cover her mouth or muffle herself in any way, and that freedom is in itself a huge turn-on. She thinks he knows it too, for he grins up at her and yanks off her underwear, discarding it on the floor. The rest of her clothes follow, one thing at a time. "I haven't seen you naked in a long time," he says, his hands moving over her hips. So she sits unabashedly naked for him and lets him look and touch. "You're so beautiful, Ginge," he says a moment later. It's an easy, affectionate compliment and it warms her.  
  
She smiles at him. "Thanks, honey." She scoots back to lie against the big pillows plumped against the headboard of the bed and bends a knee so that he can see her. He moves to kneel between her legs and looks her over.  
  
"Freddie," she says, with an irrepressible smile, "you've even still got your tie on."  
  
He starts to laugh and undoes his tie and drops it off the side of the bed. Everything else is off quickly and she pulls him down on top of her. A whole year since she's felt anyone else's skin against her own, and four since she's been with him last. Kissing him is better than she remembered, better than Jack-- that thought makes her eyes pop open for a moment, not out of guilt, but because she used to think the same thing with him about Lew. He was better than both of them, more familiar.  
  
A whole year means she needs a moment to adjust to him but once she does it's incredible. One movement of her hips and he groans and pushes all the way in. He knows she likes it hard but not fast, so he moves like that and feels her arch up into him.  
  
He likes that she's different now. He loved watching her change over the ten years they spent together (the little breaks of a year or two never mattered) and another five years has made her into a bona fide woman. She's past her first young beauty and into a kind of blossoming sexuality that makes his mouth water. Now she's the age he was when they made their first movie. Tempus fugit, he thinks briefly as she wraps her arms around his neck.

She giggles and moans at him from underneath. Even her laugh is different. He pushes her knees further apart and uses the deep, steady strokes he knows she likes, and her laughter stops in favor of a much better sound. He gets up on his knees and puts a hand down between her legs, his thumb working at the small hill of nerve endings. He knows exactly what to do and she looks up at him from underneath her lashes. It feels good, so good. She doesn't spare a moment of thought for Jack. This is all that matters.  
  
She feels her body wind up like a spring. It's the best she's felt in ages. The pleasure builds and builds and she can't help the noises she's making, but he loves it.  
  
When she comes she gives the same sharp shudder he is so familiar with, that he hasn't felt in years, and that he loves so much. "Ooh, God, Ginger," he says, looking down at her. She tilts her head back and her hands grip his behind to get him to go deeper, harder. It's exquisite; he can't help following right after her, burying himself to the hilt inside her.  
  
Afterwards they spend a few minutes lying still, something they didn't often get to do. The hasty, sweaty sex of the thirties, necessitated by the need for discretion, has given way to something more relaxed. The lithe, lean girl-woman pressed into the wall yields to this new image. He's put in mind of spring flowers.  
  
She props her head on her hand and regards him, her blue eyes searching his face for something. "Freddie," she says, "will you come see me again?"  
  
"How much longer are you going to be here?" he asks.  
  
"Four days."  
  
"I've got a week. I'll be back." He smiles at her. "I'll come see you, honey."  
  
Twenty minutes later he is dressed and in his coat and hat and standing at her door. He caresses her face and kisses her in his familiar way. "See you tomorrow?" he asks.  
  
"If you can get away," she answers, and she's warmed by the fact that he'll get away for her, even if for an hour. The door shuts.  
  
For a brief moment she cries, out of sheer emotion, but from exactly what she doesn't know. She feels so good, better than she has in a long, long time. She feels a weight lift off her, and perhaps it's relief behind her tears. Then as suddenly as the tears come they are gone and she feels settled. A kind of peace comes over her, the reminder that she isn't alone, and that she is loved. It's a precious feeling.


End file.
